


Homura & Kyubey Go to Hooters

by leafbladie, unrestedjade



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: Crack Relationships, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:20:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21926602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leafbladie/pseuds/leafbladie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/unrestedjade/pseuds/unrestedjade
Summary: Madoka decides in her infinite wisdom that a date would be the best way for Homura and Kyubey to get past their issues with one another.
Relationships: Akemi Homura/Kaname Madoka, Akemi Homura/Kyubey
Kudos: 34





	Homura & Kyubey Go to Hooters

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a short fic request from my friend for his birthday (that I'm 3 months late in giving to him). His prompt was just, "Homura and Kyuubey go on a date", and my brain shat this out. Unfortunately, got a bit too overambitious with it, and began to hate it by the time I finished the first rough draft. Thankfully, my good friend Jade was willing to help patch it up, and I think I can say I like it enough now.

“Alright, you two! We need to settle your differences now, so we don’t have any more fights,” Madoka chimed cheerfully.

If Madoka were not the one speaking these words, Homura had no doubt she would be unable to contain the rage building within her. “I do not need to settle anything with that detestable being,” Homura said in her natural monotone.

“Likewise, I find coming to an understanding with Akemi Homura not only to be impossible, but of little benefit to me,” Kyubey posited.

“Oh, come on, you two!” Madoka pouted, hands clasped. “Surely you can find some common ground. You both just agreed on something there, so surely you can find even more similarities between yourselves.”

“You underestimate my contempt for the Incubator,” Homura replied.

“Now, Homura, it’s not nice to call someone by their species name. Their name is Kyubey— please refer to them as such.”

“I really do not mind either way. As long as what you call me makes it clear that you are referring to me, then I will respond appropriately,” Kyubey said.

Madoka stamped her foot. “That’s no good! You both have to take steps to better respect one another, or we’ll never get along.”

Homura felt her muscles tighten, not wanting to give the Incubator the time of day, but also not wanting to disappoint Madoka. “Kyubey and I have opposing values and goals. Madoka, you have to accept this. We’d only bring pain to ourselves and others.”

“I feel no pain,” Kyubey interrupted, “though I would consider this exercise to be a futile one.”

That statement did not ring true in the slightest to Homura, remembering her dance around his disheveled body. “Regardless, Madoka, relent on this topic.”

“No! Magical Girls can do anything— I’ll prove it. Not only will you two be friends, you’ll be the best of friends!” Madoka’s eyes glowed gold as her wings shivered with anger, radiating determination.

Homura was worried. Even Kyubey was unable to make a retort.

“So, you two are going on a date. Where would you like to go, Homura?” Madoka asked, as if nothing had happened a moment prior.

“The Mitakihara mall.” Homura stated the first thing that popped into her mind without thinking, not wanting to disappoint Madoka in the slightest.

“And you, Kyubey?”

“Hooters would probably be the most ideal place for a date.”

Homura’s calm facade broke upon hearing that suggestion. Why in Madoka’s name did he want to go to a Hooters? Was he really a man in his mid-thirties depressed about not having a relationship lasting longer than three weeks?

“I see that you are confused, Akemi Homura, so let me explain,” Kyubey said. “Hooters is a restaurant. I observe that most humans prefer to go out to eat on a date, and so Hooters fulfills the primary requirement for a date.” His ears flicked idly. “However, it also allows me to do my job. The waitstaff is entirely female, and it’s not uncommon to find women there who might jump at the chance to make a contract. I know several members of my species working in America who have made contracts with many Magical Girls while at a Hooters.”

Homura didn’t think it was possible, but hearing the explanation actually made her want to shoot him more than before.

“Alright!” Madoka clapped her hands. “Now you can both get what you want.”

“What did you do, Madoka?” Homura asked, quite concerned that she already knew the answer.

No sooner had she voiced the question than Madoka gave a second clap, the world instantly changing around Homura. Looking around, she could instantly tell they were in the Mitakihara mall. She had distinct memories of navigating this place while trying to hunt down the Incubator.

Looking up, her fears were confirmed. The Hooters logo loomed overhead. Madoka had retroactively changed the mall such that the restaurant had always been there. If felt like such a gross misuse of power…but Homura wasn’t the best person to complain about that.

“Hello, and welcome to Hooters! Do you have a reservation?” The voice was familiar.

If Homura had eaten anything before this, she likely would have thrown it back up at the sight of Nagisa working the front desk at a Hooters. She was in the official uniform, and everything. The only solace Homura could take was in the fact that Madoka probably didn’t understand the appeal of a place like Hooters if she’d allowed Nagisa to be one of its workers. She never wanted anything to taint Madoka’s purity.

Kyubey played along. “It should be my understanding that we do have a reservation. Do you see the name Kyubey anywhere?”

“Kyubey, Kyubey…” Nagisa hummed, scanning the reservation list. “Oh, there you are! Right this way, please.”

As Nagisa guided them around the dining room, Homura could see that this place really was a Hooters both inside and out. She had visited one when she was still exploring herself, and her interests, before she ended up in the hospital due to her heart condition. She could see another worker at the bar, cleaning mugs with their back turned. Would they be seated there? Homura didn’t want to make small talk with two people, so she hoped not.

Thankfully, Nagisa escorted them past the bar to a booth near the back corner of the restaurant, so Homura wouldn’t have to worry about being seen here, either.

As Homura and Kyubey took their seats, Kyubey on one side and Homura on the other, Homura had to suppress a bit of a laugh as she saw Kyubey’s eyes were barely level with the edge of the table. 

Nagisa pondered for a minute, obviously trying hard to remember what she had to say next. “A waiter will be with you in a moment.” She smiled proudly, then ran off screaming toward the back of the restaurant. “Mami, Mami, did I do a good job?!”

With that out of the way, Homura opened her menu, wanting to find something cheap as she didn’t expect the Incubator to cover the bill. She wasn’t even sure he had money. The unlimited wings options seemed like the best choice. Besides the obvious appeal of the place, Hooters was also known for its wings. While Homura never got hungry, she also never truly felt full, and the Incubator was likely the same.

“Hello, you two.”

Homura recognized the voice without needing to look up. If nothing else, she could at least take solace in the fact that this date would have Madoka in it. That was the next best thing to a date with Madoka.

“Can I get you some drinks to start off with?”

As Homura looked upon her angel, her eyes were suddenly overcome with an intense burning sensation. This wasn’t the typical angel people thought of when they heard the term— a soft, human presence with white wings. No, this was the canonical, biblical type of angel she had learned about in Catholic school. Unable to be comprehended by human eyes, because to do so would destroy your very being.

“I see I’ve charmed another customer,” Madoka laughed. She bent down, her breasts bouncing noticeably as she presented her vast cleavage to Homura’s gaze.

If Homura had not been a Magical Girl, she was sure she would have died from her heart condition. Even now, she felt her complicated emotions battling it out inside her, unable to find a proper outward reaction.

That would have to be settled later, though. Homura snapped out of her stupor, realizing she was still staring into the endless abyss betwixt her best friend’s bosom. “I’ll just have some water,” Homura blurted, averting her eyes.

“And for you, sir?” Madoka asked.

“I do not require fluid, but I suspect you would like this to proceed as a normal date. Therefore, I will take water as well.”

“Excellent! I’ll bring your waters out to you in a moment, and hopefully you’ll be ready to order then.” With that, Madoka gave a slight bow, making Homura quite aware that she wasn’t wearing a bra due to a particular jiggle. Then, she was off.

Homura knew that if she thought about Madoka’s recent “growth”— whether she liked it, if it was even proper for Madoka to have it, among many other things— she’d probably be stuck on that train of thought for the rest of the date, and longer. 

She needed to take her mind off the matter. She glanced at the menu. “Dammit!” she snapped. “I forgot to order while Madoka was here.”

“I fail to see why that’s so undesirable to you, Akemi Homura,” Kyubey replied.

“Because it means five more minutes of needing to make small talk with you until she comes back and we can order. I want to end this date as soon as possible.”

Kyubey’s tail swished slowly. “This date isn’t going well for me, either. As all the employees are already Magical Girls, my plan to recruit is a complete wash.”

That line alone made Homura consider walking out, but she knew Madoka wouldn’t tolerate that. Homura thought about getting her smartphone out to minimize any discussion with the Incubator, but for all she knew Madoka might make them start the whole date over if she didn’t at least attempt to participate.

“So, what exactly do Incubators do for fun?” Homura asked. It was a fairly innocuous question and seemed date-appropriate, so obviously Homura expected Hell to freeze over for asking, but what else could she do?

“Well,” Kyubey said, “we don’t have ‘fun’ like humans do, since we don’t experience joy or happiness. I don’t think I can say we do anything for ‘fun.’”

“I feel like I’ve seen you enjoy food Mami’s prepared, or getting your head unrightfully patted by Madoka.”

“And those things are indeed pleasurable,” Kyubey replied. “But pleasure in and of itself is not an emotion. It is just an evolutionary motivator to encourage certain activities in favor of survival of the fittest— such as sex, or eating certain beneficial foods.”

Homura frowned. “You really know how to put magic into the air with your words.”

“Ah, this must be the ‘sarcasm’ you humans love so much. We Incubators have no need for such deception.”

Homura swore she could feel a vessel in her brain pop. That twisting of the truth, those little lies Kyubey employed in order to deceive whoever he wanted. That, apparently, was better than mere sarcasm.

Homura’s mind dug up everything about the Incubator that aggravated her to no end. Constantly stalking and pestering Madoka, his vague wording, his stupid ears (seriously, why did he seem to have two sets of ears?)— all to give her some mental relief as she stewed in her thoughts. Of course, she made no visible change in her facial facade as she did this, not wanting to give the Incubator the satisfaction.

“Are you two ready to order?”

Homura heard Madoka’s sweet voice ring out and let it wash over her, cleansing her of all her stress without a trace of effort. “Yes,” Homura said. “We’d like the unlimited wings.”

“Ah, an excellent choice. I’ll have our cook prepare our best cuts. A shame, though, as I think breasts are a much better choice than wings,” Madoka said with a wink as she stretched one arm above her head and arched her back.

Homura couldn’t help but blush at the sight. Even Madoka’s attempts at being sexy were just…cute. It was obvious she was trying way too hard, and seeing her like this was kind of adorable. Homura still wasn’t sure if she liked it or not, but she could, at the very least, accept it.

“Oh, and before I go…” Madoka gave a small clap. 

Homura’s outfit began to glow, as did Kyubey himself. As the glow faded, Homura was left in a black dress, which she ascertained had a string back to it. She felt quite overdressed, considering it was only a Hooters, but she wondered if Madoka might let her keep the dress after this was over. It might come in handy if she ever went to, say, a ball with Madoka, or something.

Homura looked back up to Kyubey to see what had happened to him. She barely had it in her to stifle her laughter. He was now in a suit that looked like one of those dog costumes bought by people who treated their pets like fashion accessories.

“Do I have to wear this, Madoka Kaname?” Kyubey’s tail twitched slightly. “It limits my movement and provides no positive attributes to offset that.”

“I think you look rather dapper in it,” Madoka said. “Also, my name’s not Madoka.”

“I think Madoka is quite right in her assess-” Homura blinked. “Wait, what do you mean you’re not Madoka?” 

“Just what I said.”

“You’re clearly her,” Homura said. “You have her pink twin-tails and ribbon.”

“Nope! My name’s Medaka. Medaka Kurokami.”

Homura wasn’t even sure how to respond to this. Did Madoka seriously think she was fooling anybody by saying this? She and Kyubey literally saw her clap her hands to change their wardrobe in an instant.

“My apologies, Medaka Kurokami,” Kyubey said.

“No worries! Anyway, I’ll be back with your wings in a bit.” Madoka waved and headed to the back of the restaurant again.

“Do you actually believe her?” Homura asked.

“Of course not,” Kyubey said, “but I’ve learned it’s pointless to argue with humans who lie intentionally, especially when the lies are as obvious as hers.”

Homura couldn’t deny that truth. She had seen a lot of obvious lies in her time-travel days, some of them from herself, even. “How do you find a liar?” Homura asked, genuinely curious about their methodology. It could be beneficial to learn for future use.

Kyubey licked one fore-paw, just below the cuff of the little suit jacket. “Most humans have obvious tells, certain behaviors that allow us to tell when they’re lying or not. Of course,” they continued, “some are better at hiding such behavior. For them, the best maneuver is to put them in a situation where they can’t answer you properly. If they can’t answer, that’s as good as them admitting that your speculation is right.”

Homura knew the Incubator was talking about her with that last remark, given all the times he had pulled this same maneuver on her.

“Just now, you’re probably thinking I was specifically referring to you when I posited my method, aren’t you?” Kyubey watched her with unblinking eyes.

Homura remained silent.

“This is why humans are so easy to manipulate. I told you the method by which we do it, and you still walked right in-”

Kyubey stopped short, unable to complete his sentence as his body had been turned into Swiss cheese.

“What just happened?!” Madoka rushed out from the back of the restaurant, drawn by the noise of heavy firepower.

“Oh,” Homura said. “Kyubey and I just had a little disagreement when he suddenly exploded. Not sure what that was about.”

“Hooomura!” Madoka whined.

“No worries, Medaka,” Kyubey replied, jumping back up onto the booth seat. “I’ll have this cleaned up in a second.”

“Nooo!” Madoka pulled Kyubey away from the discarded corpse and right into her cleavage. The very sight caused Homura’s nails to break the skin of her palms. “You can’t fill up before the meal,” Madoka went on, before calling out, “Kyoko, can you come here, please?”

“Yes, Mado-” Kyoko started, before meeting Madoka’s glare. “I mean, Medaka?”

Madoka pointed to the mess on the booth seat. “Can you clean that up?”

“Ehh, I’ve never had Kyubey shish-kebab before,” Kyoko said, shrugging. “Sounds good.”

“Kyoko,” Madoka chided, “we aren’t supposed to eat in front of our customers.”

“Well, why the hell not?! I’m human too. I gotta eat like the rest of them. Besides, I’m sure Homura doesn’t mind.”

Homura shook her head. “I really don’t care in the slightest. Though I don’t think you should eat his lead-filled corpse.”

“I just gotta spit them out like raisins from a cookie.” Kyoko grinned as she grabbed for the corpse.

“You’re not eating anything!”

Kyoko leapt back as a burst of light came forth from Madoka’s hand, atomizing Kyubey’s corpse.

“Ah, that was such a waste,” Kyoko lamented, tearing up.

“I must concur with Kyoko— a waste of resources,” Kyubey added, hopping back down to where the corpse once laid.

“Hmph! You’ll thank me once you taste these wings Mami made,” Madoka said, clapping her hands to conjure up a plate, which she laid before them. “Bon appetit!”

“…Madoka,” Homura said. “Can you please call the chef?”

“My name’s not Madoka though-”

Slam.

Homura’s fist tingled where it had struck the table. “Please, just call the chef,” she said through gritted teeth.

Madoka rushed off to the back.

Homura knew what she was doing wasn’t kind, but she had run out of patience with this night long ago. This was the last straw.

“Hi! I heard you wished to speak with the chef personally. Did my cooking impress you that much?”

Homura could tell from the insufferably sweet voice that it was Mami.

“What is this?” Homura asked, pointing to her wings.

“Wings…? I don’t understand what you’re ask-”

“No,” Homura said. “What type of wings?”

Mami hesitated to answer, like a child seconds from being chewed out by their parents. Finally, under her breath, she replied, “Balsamic-Soy.”

“And why in Madoka’s name did you decide to glaze the wings with that?”

“Well, there was no note on what flavor you wanted, and knowing your poor health, I wanted to try making something nutritious for you.” The words tumbled from Mami’s mouth as tears began to well up in her eyes.

“We’re at a Hooters in a mall. Why would you even go to the effort of this? Do you think that by cooking classier food, this place will no longer be a Hooters?” Homura gestured at Mami. “Look at you! You’re in a low-cut t-shirt where I can see your cleavage from twenty meters away. Why are you trying to add any semblance of class to this place? I would’ve been fine with honey barbecue or Asian sauce, or any other normal flavor, but you bring out this?”

“Homura…”

“No, don’t you dare interrupt,” Homura retorted. “And not only do you bring it out covered in this sauce, but I can tell that you didn’t fry it, bake it, or grill it. You steamed it. If I wanted to eat healthy, I’d have a salad in an Olive Garden. But if I’m going to a place like Hooters, I don’t want it to pretend to be something better than it actually is. I want to feel like I shaved five hours off my life to enjoy a single wing.”

At this, Mami’s tears finally burst forth, unable to be restrained. She ran off to the kitchen, attempting to hide her sorrow.

For one brief moment, Homura felt great. The high came crashing down, though, as what she’d actually done came to mind. She’d been frustrated with this entire date. Being told to go on it by someone she couldn’t reject, forced to endure Kyubey for far too long, she had taken her frustrations out on someone as kind as Mami. All for what? A cheap win?

Homura felt a gentle rubbing sensation on her cheek. She would recognize the feeling anywhere, and leaned into the touch, happy to be comforted by her friend.

The rubbing sped up, and Homura grew worried.

“Hooo-muuu-raaa!” Madoka exclaimed, “that wasn’t very nice of you!”

The velocity of Luminous increased even further. Homura felt her skin burning, like getting a bad rug burn. Still, Madoka kept on the pressure, and Homura could do nothing but sit there. Finally, as Homura’s skin felt like it might be set aflame and start peeling off, Madoka relented.

“This is your last chance, Homura. Finish this date properly, or we’ll do it over again. Also, apologize to Mami after you finish.”

Homura only nodded, not bringing up the fact that Madoka had come out still dressed in her “Medaka” attire. How could she say anything, when Madoka looked at her like that as she left?

“I’m going to get a quick drink,” Homura said, hoping that if Madoka was watching, she wouldn’t think Homura was abandoning the date.

As Homura walked toward the bar, the familiar atmosphere couldn’t help but bring up memories that Homura felt were best forgotten. It was amazing how Madoka had perfectly replicated the establishment without the slightest bit of effort. But in the end, it just reminded Homura of her weaker self, a girl in Catholic school unable to express her love.

“Hey, why the long face?” someone asked.

Homura stopped, narrowly avoiding a bar stool. “Sayaka?”

“What, you forget me, transfer student?” 

It was a rhetorical question. Honestly, Homura could never forget Sayaka, and for all the wrong reasons. Nowadays, though, she couldn’t say those wrong reasons were solely because of Sayaka. “No,” Homura said. “Just a bit depressed. You mind getting me a drink?”

“Sure! Madoka’s mom showed me a thing or two when I was still alive. Although, aren’t you a little young to be drinking?”

“I’m sure Madoka already filled you in on the time travel.”

“Not so sure about that— how do I know you’re the same Homura, even? I think I need to see some proper ID,” Sayaka snorted.

Homura sighed. “I left it in my other shield. You mind taking my word for it?”

Sayaka let out a big laugh at that. At the sound, Homura couldn’t help but let a small smile creep onto her face as well. It had been a long time since she’d done anything fun for herself. She always focused on her duty, whatever that happened to be at the time.

“So,” Sayaka said when she calmed down, “is a martini okay? I wasn’t kidding about only knowing one or two things from Madoka’s mom. That’s all she showed us before Madoka’s dad stopped her.”

“What’s the other choice?”

Sayaka raised a brow. “You sure? It’s pretty strong, and takes a while to make. It’s also what Madoka’s mom had before she, uh, took us to bar-tending school.”

Homura nodded. “I’m sure. I think I’ll need something that powerful to get through this night.” Strong was good. Maybe it would be enough to help her fight down the urge to render another of the Incubator’s bodies full of lead.

As Sayaka prepared for this alcoholic undertaking, she kept up her “helpful bartender” chatter. “You know why Madoka’s doing this, right?”

“Because she can’t help but think well of a race of aliens that has hurt her time and time again.”

“That might be true,” Sayaka said, as she cut up a lime, “but thinking about it, would you truly want Madoka to not be like that? To be someone who doesn’t think others can be better, can do better?” She shrugged. “I’m sure you’ve seen Madokas who have given up hope. Can you say you’d be satisfied with that?”

Homura started to answer as she normally would: that she’d want Madoka to live an ordinary life. But thinking about it, would that truly be the Madoka she loved? Someone who accepted things as they were, who didn’t help a weak girl like her that day, out of the infinite kindness of her heart?

Homura had known the real truth the entire time, but it was something she ignored, like so many other things that stood in the way of her happiness.

“Why don’t you try again with this date? You don’t have to come out of here lovey-dovey with Kyubey,” Sayaka said, over the ice rattling around in the shaker. “I know Madoka doesn’t expect or want that. But try to get along, and give him another chance. You might find yourself happier for it.” She poured the finished concoction into a tall glass, adding a tiny umbrella with a flourish. “Your drink, by the way.”

“Alright,” Homura said, pushing herself up from the bar stool and grabbing the glass. “Let’s finish this date.”

***

When Homura cracked her eyes open, morning sunlight was streaming in through her bedroom window to stab her directly in the brain. The rest of the evening had passed in a blur. However hard she tried, she couldn’t remember anything after she’d finished that drink Sayaka made for her. Apparently, she hadn’t been kidding when she warned Homura it was strong. 

Well, somehow she’d gotten home and put herself to bed, though she would need to get up and drink some water soon, lest her headache get worse. Rolling over to spare her eyes from the sun, Homura blinked her eyes open, lashes tangled with last night’s mascara.

Kyubey blinked back at her from the other pillow, eyes even redder than usual and ears drooping. His tiny body was huddled under the covers.

“What?” Homura’s voice ripped through her own skull, as weak and croaky as it was. 

“Not so loud, please,” Kyubey said, burrowing farther under the covers. “Oh dear,” he continued, muffled by the duvet. “Last night was an anomaly, although I apologize for my unprofessional behavior. I trust I can count on your discretion, Akemi Homura?”

Homura woke up mid-yell, all but leaping from her bed. Disoriented, she looked around her room. It was still dark out. She was wearing pajamas, not clad in an evening gown or caked in stale makeup. She wasn’t hungover.

Most importantly, Kyubey was nowhere to be seen.

A dream?

Of course. How and why would something so insane transpire? Lying back on her pillow, Homura lay a hand across her forehead, mind going over the contents of her dream even as it scattered in her memory. So ridiculous. Dating Kyubey? Mami, a line cook? Sayaka tending bar? Madoka in that…that degrading outfit? Stupid. Ridiculous. No more eating fried chicken before bed from now on.

…Maybe Madoka’s outfit hadn’t been so bad.

Just as she was dozing off again, Homura caught, from the corner of her eye, a paper bag on her nightstand, the kind used to hold restaurant leftovers. 

On the bag, a logo of an owl stared back at her from orange lettering.


End file.
